Mr Monk And The Accident
by Amymimi
Summary: Adrian Monk and his fiancee Natalie Teeger stumble upon a crime that threatens their blossoming romance. Sequel to Mr. Monk and the Wishful Thinking. Chapter 4 up May 7th!
1. The Engagement

**Disclaimer: I do not own Adrian Monk or any of the characters of the Monk USA Network television series, nor am I making any money from writing this story.**

**A/N: This story is a sequel to my version of the Monk series finale, Mr. Monk and the Wishful Thinking. I do not follow canon--and have diverted using my storyline (basically, there's no Molly, Natalie does not end up with Steven Albright and well, you'll have to read it to know the rest!). If you haven't read the story, there may be some elements of this story that will confuse you, because they refer back to "Wishful Thinking." Thanks for all your "wishful thinking" for a sequel. This is just sort of a background chapter setting up for further chapters. Without further ado, here it is!**

* * *

Natalie Teeger glanced down yet again at the hand holding her own, the large hand that until a month ago had been adorned with a simple silver band, a reminder that he was taken. Normally on a trek to the grocery store she kept her hand on the small of the man's back, her palm rubbing against the itchy material of his thick brown-toned blazer. This was the second time she was making this short journey with his hand bare, though this entire month she had not seen a glimmer of his wedding ring.

She glanced then at her left hand holding an umbrella over her and Adrian's head and the hand's new ring, a perfectly square diamond—no, it really was _perfectly _square, he had emphatically explained to her—on a thin gold band. _Ten_ karat gold, he clarified—a number not only ensuring its strength, but it was also the perfect number. He certainly had picked out a beautiful ring, and all while she remained completely unaware of his intentions. He must have confided in her daughter Julie at some point, for she at least had been aware of the Christmas day surprise.

Natalie couldn't believe it had been a month since she had accepted Adrian's ring. She had seen the box, sitting by itself behind the tree, a box wrapped in a shiny foil-like wrapping and completely free of any crease or wrinkle. It was immediately apparent to her that this gift was wrapped by Adrian Monk. It was a small box, to be sure, but not too small to give away its secret of jewelry. The meticulous way he had wrapped it gave no indication of its importance; he wrapped all gifts with the same perfectionism.

It was then, after she had detached the tape from the end and lifted the flap to reveal a box, she forsook to continue unwrapping slowly and instead tore into the wrapping, opening the box to reveal a hinged felt-covered box.

If she had looked up at this point she would have seen Adrian Monk staring down at the present in her hands as if it was a leaky balloon holding the remains of the world's oxygen. A layer of sweat had formed unnoticed along his hairline, and he was trying his best not to let his leg shake back and forth at the suspense.

As soon as she placed her thumb on the jewelry box, the tiny creak permeating the suspenseful silence of the room, Adrian abruptly moved off of the ottoman where he had been sitting and dropped to his knees in front of her.

A chill had run up her spine at the sight of Adrian Monk kneeling there in front of her, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with each breath. He bowed his head, watching from his downturned face Natalie revealing the contents of the box.

A ring. She gasped, a hand moving swiftly to cover her mouth. Adrian held his breath, not wanting to stare at her but wanting to read every change of expression in her eyes, watch the subtleties of her mouth, any pursing of her lips, a wrinkling of her brow.

If a doctor had been there with an EKG machine he most likely would have found temporary arrhythmia in Adrian and Natalie both, a few skipped heartbeats in the moments since her discovery of the box.

She smiled, her eyes suddenly glistening. He finally took a breath.

"Adrian—"

"Natalie," he began shakily. He cleared his throat, looking self-consciously at the ground before continuing. "Natalie, would you… marry me?"

"Yes!" she shrieked, lunging towards him with her arms outstretched. She wrapped herself around him, feeling him reciprocate in kind, his large hands resting firmly on her upper back. She could almost swear he was pulling her towards him as well. It was then that she moved her head back from where she had rested it on his shoulder while they hugged. A moment passed between them as they looked into each others' eyes only inches from each other. It was then that they both simultaneously turned their heads to look—Julie was leaning towards them, a huge toothy smile on her face.

"Julie, maybe you should—" Natalie began to say, feeling a strange teenage awkwardness overcome her, as if her parents had been watching her and her first boyfriend exchange goodbyes on the front porch.

Suddenly a hand moved from her back, trailing its way up her neck and threading its fingers in her hair, gently turning her head.

She was now face to face with Adrian Monk, who was beaming at her, his smile shy but inviting. His face moved towards hers, and their lips united.

* * *

A month had passed since that magical moment, a month full of awkward hugs, strange goodnight kisses and inappropriate times she'd slip him a wipe. Though Natalie had expected it from him, Adrian hadn't spoken of or acted upon any inklings of a more _physical_ kind of love, nor did he refer to sleeping arrangements—in response, she convinced herself the current sleeping arrangements were better for Julie right now, being as she would be starting college in July and Adrian Monk only had one bedroom in his apartment. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving her only child alone at home while she stayed with Adrian, who had been safely sleeping alone for more than a decade.

Even so, it hurt to know that even though Monk was presumably capable of a physical kind of love—he had announced to his childhood crush that he and Trudy had 'went all the way,' for goodness sake—he hadn't so much as mentioned it with Natalie.

Adrian Monk was a complicated man. And Natalie couldn't have expected anything their relationship to be anything less than complicated. She had hoped by this point that they would finally consummate the relationship that had lasted for more than half a decade—and yet, it hadn't happened. She wasn't used to—well, _waiting_; whereas Adrian Monk had presumably remained in a dormant state for at least twelve years. She was accustomed to it; her wild youth was spent plenty busy in that regard, and even Steven Albright had made it swiftly around all the bases. Only in the last couple of years had she slowed down in that way, but not to extent of Monk's monk-like chastity.

Adrian Monk marched to a different kind of drummer—he was the type to make her feel like an innocent again, lightly dusting off the bases without actually touching them.

She should have suspected his intentions, for it was quite clear they wouldn't be the kind of couple that ripped each other's clothes off, starting on the very first day of their engagement. She thought back to that utterly awkward first evening, Christmas day evening, when she and Julie attempted to linger as long as possible at the dinner table in light conversation, moving to the kitchen to clean up as they both waited for Monk's next idea.

"Wait," he said, watching them simultaneously stand, plates in hand, "where are you going?"

"We're going to clean the dishes," Natalie matter-of-factly stated, showing him the dirtied dish. With a little smile she picked up the fork and spoon in her free hand and swirled off toward the kitchen.

"Don't worry about that," he asserted. "I've got it under control."

"I'm just going to rinse them off and put them in your dishwasher."

"Yeah," Monk began, standing up, "but here's the thing. These are special _Christmas_ dishes. They aren't dishwasher safe."

Natalie turned over the plate in her hand, seeing the inscription _'Microwave and dishwasher safe_.'

She looked over at him, disguising the triumph she felt. These dishes hadn't been used before, but they weren't really any different than the other dishes, aside from the fact that they seemed to be slightly heavier somehow.

"Adrian, actually they—"

"See, I knew you were going to say that," Monk interrupted. He moved towards her with practiced grace and took the plate from her hand. "I only use the dishwasher for my _everyday_ plates and flatware. These dishes can't be tainted with that everyday water—that's what makes them dishes for a special occasion... like this."

Natalie crossed her arms, flashing him a little smirk.

"How do you propose to wash them, then; hmm? The water going into that dishwasher is your sink water."

"Yes, but the water leaving the spigot is not water that has already touched the everyday dishes. It's fresh."

"You win," Natalie said, throwing up her hands. "I'll wash them in the sink then." She reached for the plate, finding it firmly held in Monk's hand.

"It's okay, Natalie," he told her. "I don't want you to think that you have to take over all the domestic responsibilities now. I can still do the cleaning, and disinfecting, the dusting.... the washing...."

"What do you propose I do then?"

"You can cook," he said with a big appreciative smile.

"Works for me!" Natalie replied, feeling a bit relieved. Adrian had his way of going about things and she wasn't about to make herself more work than she needed--especially if he was just going to re-do the task.

"And take out the trash," he added quietly, his smile fading. "I don't like touching the bags...."

"Of course."

She couldn't help but glance down at her watch to indirectly remind Adrian of the time. It was past midnight and he showed no signs of tiring.

"Well, it's getting a bit late," she finally blurted, watching Julie set her plate back down on the table. "I should—well, I mean... Julie has...."

"I know, it's pretty late. I'm sorry I kept you so long. I'm just so... so....."

"Happy?" Julie interrupted.

"That's it," he said, his smile never wavering. "I'm happy! I didn't want today to end. But I guess it has to sometime."

"Umm..." Natalie began. How was she going to bring this up? Hmmm.....

"Tomorrow then?" Adrian ventured, looking earnestly at Natalie. She almost choked.

"Well, technically it _is_ tomorrow, but...."

"You know what I mean. Tomorrow morning--err, afternoon since I kept you two so long?"

"Of course, Adrian."

Was he really that innocent—that naïve—or simply being respectful? She wasn't a girl of twenty with no more than a goldfish to take care of. Even so, Julie, though she was nearing 18, couldn't be trusted by her mother to go very far alone. Perhaps it was better this way.

He walked mother and daughter to his door, where things quickly became more awkward than either would have liked to admit, being as they _were_ mature adults.

"Merry Christmas, Julie... Natalie. It was great having you both. I, uhm.... I'm really glad you came over."

"The pleasure is all ours, Adrian," Natalie replied, moving towards him and enveloping him in a bear hug. Though she often took the opportunity to hug her employer during strictly boss-employee encounters, she knew very well that all the hugs from now on would feel decidedly different--and they did.

"I'm so excited about you and Mom," Julie suddenly blurted. "That is so cool; you guys are gonna get married! Do you know when yet?"

Monk and Natalie exchanged a glance of utter unknowingness as they broke their hug, and then turned back to look at the teenager.

"We're not sure yet, Sweetie, but we'll be talking about it very soon."

"If you want to—well, you know—I can drive myself home," Julie offered, smiling knowingly at Monk and Natalie as they stood near each other.

Natalie shook her head subtly, glancing nervously in Adrian's direction. No way was she going to have her daughter spend Christmas night alone in their big Victorian house. Julie continued to smile at Monk, which was clearly unnerving him.

"Want to what?" he finally asked, his expression one of utter puzzlement.

"Oh, she's just being silly, Adrian."

"Ha," he croaked, in an attempt to laugh. "Guess you really got me, Julie... eh?" he said with an insecure chuckle. He turned to Natalie to save some of the dignity he figured he had just lost to the precocious teenager. "Tomorrow?" Monk asked her.

"Tomorrow," Natalie replied with a grin.

Adrian and Julie exchanged a hug, followed by Julie stepping into the hallway, leaving the newly engaged pair alone for the first time.

"I just want to let you know how relieved I was when you said yes," Adrian admitted, his shoulder inadvertently twitching. "I played the scene over and over in my mind—and nine times out of ten, it didn't turn out like—"

"How could you think I'd say anything but yes?" she interrupted.

"How could I not," he replied with a shrug. "Look at you. Look at me. You're normal—and beautiful... and young...er."

"You're going to have to stop putting yourself down, or else I'm going to start complimenting you all day until you believe it."

"You already do that," he admitted. "I don't know if I'll ever believe it."

Suddenly Natalie's hands moved to Adrian's shoulders, gripping him firmly and staring directly into his liquid brown eyes.

"I love you just the way you are."

* * *

Thinking back to that night, Natalie now felt more of a sense of frustration than anything else. She found herself openly and unabashedly _wanting_ Adrian Monk, checking his butt out when he'd fetch a cleaning supply from under the sink, stopping by his house when she knew he'd still be in his pajamas, his top button undone, feet exposed. She had spent the last half-dozen years falling in love with his mind and now that that little silver band was gone from his hand, she subconsciously permitted herself to fall in love with his body. She'd sit on his couch with him, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers, her hands straying from their customary position on his back, and yet the action was unrequited… Had he no feelings in the matter? Was he perfectly happy to have a platonic relationship? She supposed he might be the type to wait until marriage, but he and Natalie were practically married already. It had been a month since she had said yes to his proposal of marriage. Even so, a question popped up every time he'd overlook a flirtation, a subtle advance from her: was Trudy to remain the sole object of his desire?

Monk had been called on only three cases since becoming engaged, all having been solved more than two weeks ago. It was odd to be free on a weekday. It was Tuesday afternoon and rather than interviewing witnesses or poring over case files, Monk and Natalie were shopping. Now as they walked towards the grocery store they hadn't a clue they were about to become inadvertently involved in a new case, a case that would test their feelings for each other.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this is verrrry important and affects the direction this story will take:**

**What would you like to see? So this story is more case-based (e.g. more like my stories Mr. Monk And Mrs. Fleming, Mr. Monk And The Haunted Motel, and Mr. Monk And The New Assistant) than feelings-based like my stories Mr. Monk Gets Sick & Mr. Monk And The Wishful Thinking. However, there is the issue of married feelings and things that married people do. I wouldn't dream of getting explicit, but would you like me to address that issue (like a T rating at most)? Obviously since they've taken their relationship further, that means certain things….**

**Please let me know either way. Please! This is really a big issue and I don't want to post anything further until I get a good deal of feedback on this as well as how the story seems so far!! Are they in character: the biggest question!! Thanks, everyone! **


	2. Witnesses

**A/N: Oh thank you ever so much for your reviews/encouragement/feedback! I really really appreciate it and I'll be sending you review replies! It's been a crazy busy week for me and I wanted to get this next chapter out before the weekend. Thank you all again and please continue to let me know your concerns and thoughts on this story! You all are the best!**

* * *

Witnesses

* * *

The rain fell steadily on the sidewalk as Natalie and Adrian walked to the grocery store, Natalie quietly laughing as she watched Adrian sidestep the puddles and yet refuse to let go of her hand. The large golf umbrella she carried above their heads kept them dry and comfortable. Thankfully Natalie had chosen a shoulder-strap purse that stayed out of the way of the umbrella.

It would be another story, carrying groceries back in the rain, and Natalie half-wished she had driven her car the four blocks from Adrian's apartment to the grocery store, if only to avoid juggling bags _along_ with a purse and an umbrella. It also was a shame that she and Adrian wouldn't be able to hold hands on the way home, for both of their hands would be full.

The pair walked up to the intersection of Post St. and Stockton St., glancing across the way at a small park as the rain continued to pour down. Mud puddles were beginning to show on the grass underneath several palm trees planted in the small lot, making Adrian inadvertently shiver, a sensation felt by Natalie through their linked hands. The light was red at the intersection, and Natalie led them over to the pole where she hit the walk signal button.

All of a sudden, there was a loud splashing along the street like the sound of a rapidly approaching vehicle. Natalie and Adrian spun around to see a green SUV speed towards the intersection at an alarming pace. Did the driver not see that he had a red light? Monk glanced at the intersection again. A small red car was beginning to cross the intersection, the driver moving through the intersection without appearing to notice the green SUV. Someone honked from behind the car as if to warn it, but the car continued to move rather slowly. The SUV was almost upon the red car. Suddenly, it slammed on its brakes, water spraying from all sides as it hydroplaned and slid sideways into the red car, completely crumpling the passenger side door of the red car.

Adrian and Natalie were splashed with the muddy water of the stopping vehicle, both frowning as they watched other pedestrians shaking out their equally splashed clothing.

"Are you going to call the police, Natalie?" Adrian inquired, shaking out the cuffs of his dripping trousers. "That SUV was 100% at fault. What was that guy thinking?"

"They should probably be doing that on their own. This accident is going to have to be reported," she replied, hearing the red car shut its engine off. Horns began to honk impatiently from every angle of the intersection.

"What—are they just going to park there, right in the center of the intersection?" Adrian quipped, throwing up his free hand. He watched intently as the door of the red car opened, the driver of the vehicle leaning over towards his glove compartment to probably fetch insurance information and then extending a leg to step onto the wet pavement.

The man now emerging from the red car was surprisingly tall, his ill-fitting bright blue jacket making him look even larger than he actually was. He was a good-looking man, with light brown hair and a moustache-goatee combination peppered here and there with gray, though he looked utterly awkward in his jacket. At his emergence, Natalie unexpectedly turned to face Adrian, her head down, rather than watching the man's next move. Monk was too absorbed in the unfolding situation—the worst of humanity being elicited by this kind of situation, to notice his fiancée's sudden coyness. He watched the man stride silently across to the driver's side of the SUV that hit him, throwing his hands in the air as if to say, 'what the hell, buddy?'

The man in the SUV rolled down his window, leering at the guy from the car who had approached his vehicle.

"Sorry about that, man," he confessed. "Hydroplaned."

"You got insurance?" the man from the car asked loudly, putting his hands on his hips.

"Oh yeah, right. Let me just get you that info."

Monk continued to watch as the man in the SUV leaned over to fetch something from the glove compartment. It seemed like he was searching forever when Natalie, absentmindedly digging through her purse, heard a voice.

"He wouldn't shoot him," Monk muttered under his breath, suddenly realizing that Natalie wasn't paying a bit of attention.

Alarmed, Natalie's eyes went wide but she did not turn her head to look at the scene.

"What are you talking about?"

Monk turned his head, indicating with a hand the small crowd that had gathered to watch the accident unfold, the cars backed up on Stockton and Post.

"There are too many witnesses," he replied. "The SUV guy wouldn't do something that stupid—though he _could_ prove me wrong."

"Are you saying that he has a gun?"

"What? Not visibly, no. See for yourself, Natalie," Monk said, indicating the drivers. She began to turn her head then decided against it.

"Don't you think they could just exchange insurance information, file a police report, and be on their way?" Natalie questioned, gritting her teeth and keeping her eyes low. "There _are_ decent, law-abiding people out there, you know."

"You're right," Adrian replied. "But… why is he taking so long?"

Suddenly they heard the men speaking again, as the SUV man produced a thick stack of papers to the red car man.

"I'm gonna get my papers soaked out here!" the man from the red car exclaimed, holding a hand in front of his face like the bill of a baseball cap as he spoke. "Mind if I sit inside your car to get your insurance information?"

"Sure, buddy," the SUV guy replied. "Hop in."

The man from the red car in the too-small jacket walked around the car as Monk shut his eyes to avoid watching the SUV man back over him and crushing his body to a pulp. But nothing happened. The man simply walked to the SUV door, opened it, and got into the vehicle.

Once inside the car, the man from the red car shifted around as if uncomfortable, unzipping his jacket as he pulled a pen out of his pocket.

"Adrian, let's get going before the rain picks up even more," Natalie's voice sounded, interrupting his reverie of crime and crooked human nature.

"What difference does it make," he snapped back irritably. "My clothes are already soaked—thanks to that wannabe speedboat captain."

"This is boring," she replied, wanting to slap her forehead for coming across so positively whiny. "I'd like to get back to the apartment before it begins to thunder. I don't like walking in electrical storms."

"There's not supposed to be a thunderstorm today," he replied, noticing the close proximity of her face to his. Why was she deliberately trying to steer him away from this situation? She was a terrible liar. "You never see thunderstorms in January," he added.

"True," she replied, feeling foolish. Of course he'd catch her in a blatant mistruth. "—but I could've sworn I saw something about sporadic lightning and—"

"Natalie, why don't you watch what's going on? It's not every day you—"

"—watch people exchange insurance information," she interrupted in a dead-pan mumble.

"Don't you feel like we should do something?"

"What? We aren't involved, Adrian…"

"The main reason I want to stand here a bit longer is I have half a mind to tell that SUV to stay more centered in his lane, or to tell the responding officer to tell him for me. His tire must've gone right over a storm drain, because he got me—well, you and me—completely soaked," Adrian grumbled. He looked down at her shoes. "And not only that, but he got your favorite shoes wet."

She looked down at her feet. When she looked back up her expression was that of confusion.

"How did you know that?"

"I know more about you than you'd be comfortable with," he replied, looking a bit embarrassed.

Natalie gave him a mischievous side-eye, challenging him.

"Like what, hmm?" she asked, giving his hand a little squeeze.

"Like the way you grit your teeth when you're anxious… Ah—and while we're on the subject of teeth, I know that you don't use Davenport Toothpaste…"

"How would you know that?" she replied. "I always have a tube in my medicine cabinet. You've never watched me brush my teeth—have you?" she responded, her expression that of curiosity.

"No, I haven't—I know it because it fits your personality… You probably have some sense of guilt that you didn't continue the family trade, and rather than consciously acknowledge it, you're secretly punishing yourself for it by not using whatever free lifetime supply you're entitled to. Instead you _buy_ it for Julie to use."

"I never told you that. You deduced that from…?"

"From you, Natalie," he said to her, looking into her eyes. They could hear the SUV running, the men inside inaudible though they were speaking as they kept their heads down as if writing something. However, neither Monk nor Natalie paid attention to the two men as they continued their conversation.

"That doesn't really make me uncomfortable for you to know which toothpaste I don't use…"

"Yeah, that…. Well, here's the thing: I know the last thing you look at before you go to sleep at night…"

She was instantly skeptical. He had only been in her bedroom maybe three times in the last five years, and only for a minute or so, and during the daytime, no less. As for the trips they had taken together, they had stayed in separate rooms—save for that awkward case at the 'haunted' motel***** early in their partnership. He'd never guess what it was that she looked at, being as she wasn't even in her own bedroom during the only opportunity he'd had to observe her….

Suddenly he spoke, jarring her mind for a moment.

"It's a picture… on your nightstand," he began. "A family picture of Julie, you… and Mitch."

Natalie felt her brain screech to a halt. Had her heart stopped in her chest? When had Adrian seen that picture? That had to have been a year ago at least, the last time he had been in her bedroom. Then again, how had he known it was still there? Most of all, how had he known that she still looked at it?

She didn't know how to begin and felt her face getting hot. This was awkward, to say the least.

"Adrian, I…"

He graciously cut her off.

"See… I knew that I know more about you than you're comfortable with. And now I've made you uncomfortable."

"No—it's not that—" she began, feeling the sting of tears coming on. "Adrian, it's not what—"

"It's okay, Natalie," he replied quietly, lifting his free hand and placing it on her cheek. "I understand completely…."

Oh, God. The tears were going to start soon. She could feel them in her eyes, probably glistening at this point, teetering on the brim of her lower eyelids. Immediately she repositioned her umbrella so that some rain poured down on her head and face for a couple of seconds, and then before Monk could protest, she righted the umbrella.

"Oh, sorry about that. Looks like I got my face all wet," she replied in a thick voice, feeling the tears sliding down her cheeks, visibly indistinguishable from the raindrops. She couldn't look so weak, especially at such a strange time. A car accident in front of them, a familiar face less than forty feet from her, and here she was, tearing up over her sense of guilt.

It was then that Adrian's thumb, large and masculine, moved as softly as a feather across her cheek, wiping a tear from her eye. Through the mist of her teary eyes she couldn't tell if his eyes were glistening in turn.

* * *

A particularly loud honk stirred Adrian and Natalie from their intimate exchange. They both looked up simultaneously and glared at the impatient vehicle at the intersection, Natalie immediately diverting her gaze to her shoes while Monk turned to look at the wreck.

As she looked at her shoes, she smiled. Monk was right: these were her favorite shoes, a pair of comfortable leather flats. It was too bad it had to be raining today. The forecast predicted it very accurately, and it was stupid to presume they'd be able to safely make it to and from the grocery store in what was to be a sizeable downpour. It was entirely her fault that they were now standing here, half-soaked….

Natalie watched the men with her peripheral vision, the umbrella low across the front of her face, as the two men sat inside the SUV exchanging information. The men shook hands before the man in the blue jacket zipped his jacket back up and stepped out of the vehicle, running back over to his own vehicle as he seemed to stare in their direction—namely, at Natalie.

"Why don't we get to the store? I think it's all over now," Natalie remarked, feeling a rush of relief, keeping her head low.

"That man is… looking at you," Monk said. "I'm sure of it. I think he's checking you out."

"What man?" she deadpanned, not moving her head.

"The man from the red car. I don't blame him, really," he admitted. "After all, you _are_ the prettiest girl in San Francisco... and you're inconceivably holding hands with me."

"Stop that kind of talk!" she said, giving him a little elbow. She barely suppressed a sigh, noticing the man's feet positioned in front of her, probably only twenty feet away from her. _Even if it were true, that's not why he's looking at me…_

"They forgot something," Monk suddenly asserted, having changed the subject. Before Natalie could say or do anything, Monk raised his voice.

"Aren't you going to call the police, file a report?" he asked the man from the red car, who was unabashedly staring at Natalie while striding to his car looking completely disheveled in the pouring rain. Natalie immediately pulled her hand away from Monk's, rapidly switched the umbrella to her right hand and shielded her face with her left hand.

"It's rotten weather out here, man!" he replied. "I'm soaked to the bone!"

"Can you drive it?" Monk added, indicating the car with his newly freed hand. The man looked at it. Finally he had taken his gaze off of Natalie. But why had Natalie jerked her hand away so quickly? He'd ask her after this whole situation was over.

"Should be okay to drive," the man muttered, shrugging as he spoke. He wiped rain out of his eyebrows as he dug in his pocket for his car keys. "It better be."

"You'll never pass inspection with your door bashed in like that—and your headlight broken," Monk pointed out. "You should get a full police report. That guy's insurance won't pay for your car if there's no proof something even happened."

Really it wasn't Monk's concern for proper procedure that had caused him to confront the driver of the red car. It was the fact that the man and his battered, _uneven_ car would be driving around in Monk's locality without being repaired. If the vehicle had been totaled, that would have been a different story. Drivable cars had no immediate reason to be fixed—to be made even again. Adrian Monk would not be able to sleep at night thinking about it.

The guy stopped completely and thought for a moment, standing directly in front of Adrian and Natalie. This time Natalie dipped the umbrella too sharply, causing rain to fall freely onto Monk's back and shoulders. He glanced with alarm at her, afraid to ask why she was acting so oddly. _Women._

"You're right," the man muttered. "There'd be no written proof that this happened."

Within a second, the man turned around, pulled out his cell phone and walked back to the SUV. He made his call and within minutes, and then the police arrived and took both men's information. The man from the red car showed the police officer his insurance information and indicated he had exchanged the information with the SUV driver.

"It's not illegal to exchange insurance information inside the other guy's car, is it?" he asked the officer. "This is my wife's coat—it's already too small on me, and I really didn't want it to shrink anymore from getting any more soaked than it is."

"It's not illegal," the cop assured him. "Don't worry about it, buddy. No need to explain. You won't be cited for what happened here. That other man clearly was at fault."

As the man from the red car finished up with the police officer, Monk couldn't help but notice him continue to glance over at Natalie, who was trying ever so hard not to be noticed, her hand firmly in front of her eyes. As he headed for his car, he stopped directly in front of Natalie, who had momentarily refrained from breathing. He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes twinkling.

"Natalie… Davenport?"

* * *

Monk felt absolutely violated as the man directly approached Natalie, saying her maiden name again. This time she couldn't help but react, being as the man was less than two feet from her.

"Hello," she muttered, slowly uncovering her face.

"Remember me?" The smile on the man's face was ever-increasing, dimples appearing on his stubbly cheeks. Monk couldn't help but size him up as he stood in front of his fiancée, unabashedly grinning now. He was probably Monk's age, a good three or four inches taller than Monk, and there, upon the man's left ring finger—a wedding ring. Monk sighed with relief.

Natalie scratched her hair in an almost violent manner in her attempts to recollect the name she most certainly already knew.

"Pete?"

He let out a pleasant guffaw.

"Geez, took you long enough! What are you up to now?"

She blushed uncontrollably.

"Well, I have a teenage daughter—Julie. She's going to be in college in a couple of months. Time flies, eh?" Monk shifted uncomfortably, and she took his arm in hers. "And this is my fiancé, Adrian Monk."

Pete held out a friendly hand to Monk.

"Me and Natalie go way back," he said, his eyes crinkled with happiness—and just a hint of pride. Monk did not extend a hand, eyeing the man warily.

"Natalie and I."

Pete paused for a moment, looking confused, his hand still thrust into Monk's personal space. He raised his eyebrows when it was clear that Monk wasn't going to say anything more.

"Natalie and you _what_?"

"_Natalie and I_ is the proper way to say it. Natalie and I go way back." His shoulder twitched as he spoke, friendliness absent from his face.

Pete dropped his hand at his side, his good-natured smile returning.

"You an English professor or something? Your name sounds kinda familiar to me…"

Suddenly Natalie cut back in, a sly smile on her face.

"Actually, he's a detective. The best detective in the world. He works with the SFPD on especially difficult cases—and solves 'em all. He's brilliant."

Monk couldn't help but smile in spite of himself. Hopefully the guy would get the point and leave. The man eyed Monk up and down suspiciously. Interestingly enough, the man looked rather uncomfortable now.

"Good to see you again, Nat. You take care of yourself."

He turned to Monk, the smile having faded.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Monk."

And with that, he went back to his vehicle, started it up, and drove out of their lives.

* * *

Nothing else occurred and the two men drove away from the scene, traffic finally beginning to move again. Natalie and Adrian continued their walk to the grocery store, Natalie letting out a silent sigh of relief.

"Seven, E G F, five four eight," Monk muttered. "Nine, U T T, four four three."

"What are you talking about?"

"The license plate numbers, Natalie."

"Okay, and why do you feel the need to remember them?"

Monk squinted as he moved into the store, Natalie closing the umbrella close behind him.

"Something about that wreck just wasn't right."

"I think you're seeing things, Adrian," she remarked dismissively. "It was typical of what happens after a wreck."

"I don't think I want to ask how you know what happens after a wreck," Adrian said, rubbing his face with a sweaty palm. "And, speaking of seeing things, I don't think you saw anything. You didn't look at the wreck one time, Natalie. What was going on with you, anyway? It was like you were hiding in plain sight."

"Oh," she stammered, face involuntarily reddening, "I thought I recognized someone across the street from us. It wasn't who I thought it was though."

"No," he replied matter-of-factly. Natalie felt her heart almost stop.

"No, what?"

"When that guy from the red car—Pete, was it?—came over to us, it was like you were me—and I was you. _He's_ the guy."

Now she couldn't help but look affronted.

"What do you mean by that?"

Monk stopped walking for a moment.

"You were terrified. It was like you encountered a bully from your childhood or something…. Believe me, I know the reaction. You didn't want him to recognize you."

"No, no," she replied, a fake chuckle on her breath. "That's not it at all. It was a person across the—"

His voice cut through, curious and intrigued.

"Who is he?"

She felt a rush of heat. It was like she was on trial. How could Monk, in all his awkward naïve _Monk_ness, elicit this kind of sharp stinging burn with a simple question?

"Who is who?"

"Pete! That man who knew you before you were married. You can tell me," he said, placing a hand on her forearm.

"How did you know that he knew me before—"

"He called you by your maiden name."

"Ha! You pick up on everything; don't you? Ehh, it's a boring story, Adrian. It's not even worth my breath, really," she admitted. He didn't look satisfied.

"Here's the thing, Natalie—you were scared to be noticed. Every day, you have to listen to me telling you about _my_ fears. I'm a _detective_, Natalie; reading you is what I do… whether I like it or not. What happened between you and him?"

Natalie sighed loudly, unwilling to explain herself at the given moment. Her face felt like it was on fire.

"It's nothing, Adrian. Really."

"I know better than to believe that. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me."

Rather than remain stopped beside him, Natalie continued to walk towards the grocery store, being as she had the umbrella in her hand. Rain pouring on his hair and curling it even more than usual, Monk moved as quickly as he could to Natalie and the umbrella. This time he grabbed her arm, causing her to halt immediately. His face was earnest—too earnest.

"Natalie—" he blurted, his hair askew, eyes wide. "Was he your… sex lover?"

* * *

***The info before the asterisk in this chapter refers to my story "Mr. Monk And The Haunted Motel." It takes place earlier in Natalie & Monk's relationship--and in it they share a motel room, amongst other things. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it! *wink*wink***

**A/N: So this chapter was a bit lengthy, but I couldn't come up with another way to divide it! Anyway, I hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think!! I was so happy and thrilled from all the feedback after posting the first chapter! It really pushes me to write more and faster and better when I hear from the readers!! Thanks again!**


	3. Skeleton

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait, guys! I was on a bit of a hiatus writing a story for a different (and decidedly less popular genre) but I have done some tweaks on this chapter and it's now ready to go! I apologize in advance for less lovey-doviness in this chapter, but it provides a good deal of information for the "case." Thank you all so much for your feedback: alex, qscft, ALEX, Monkfan, lilo, MonkNat08, Alex455, SpaceCadet47, TM10, Monkwriter, Frenho, and Bibbibabka Ditty! You guys are AWESOME!**

* * *

"WHAT?!?" Natalie practically shrieked. "What in the world would make you say something like that?!"

The question had shocked her. Not only had Adrian Monk picked up on whatever vague sign had been given of that fact, it was the first time since their engagement that her fiance had openly referred to that kind of act. She almost hoped talk of this would lead to _that_ talk, and held her breath for his reply.

"Well, it didn't seem to me like he was any sort of childhood bully, and the way you deliberately hid your face behind your engagement ring hand, no less—makes it seem to me like he was at some point interested in you. Besides that, he called you Nat. And the way you blushed when he spoke to you—not to mention the way you responded to my asking—makes it seem like you felt the same way about him."

"Alright," she admitted, raising her free hand, "you win, Adrian. He and I dated for a while. It didn't pan out. Happy?"

"No," he replied slowly, carefully, with an upward lilt at the end of the word, as if expecting more. "Here's the thing—you acted almost… well, _embarrassed_…. As if he knows more about you than you'd prefer."

"I think I'm beginning to feel that way about you, too!" she replied, raising her eyebrows in utter exasperation. "I mean, you're delving into my past headfirst from my saying only thirty words, twenty of which were spent praising you! How can you get so much information from a two-minute conversation? I haven't seen him for more than two decades, and what _should_ matter is that you and me are together."

"You and I…" Monk corrected, the volume of his voice as meek and unobtrusive as possible.

* * *

At the grocery store Monk purchased four bottles of Windex, two loaves of garlic bread, a quart each of milk and orange juice, and four boxes of wipes. He arranged them equally in the bags, with two bags each containing two bottles of Windex, one box of wipes, and a loaf of garlic bread, the other two bags each containing a quart bottle and a box of wipes. The bagger was not happy to have her job repeated, and made her displeasure known with a snide remark as Natalie and Adrian departed the store.

"Thanks for making me look real good in front of my bosses," the bagger remarked sarcastically under her breath, crossing her arms in front of her. "God, now they think I can't even bag groceries. Thanks a _lot_."

"It's okay," Monk speedily replied, looking back over his shoulder as he held the door open with his foot. "They know me here. Believe me; they won't hold it against you."

As they left the store, Natalie expanding her umbrella once more, Adrian smiled at her.

"_That's _what was missing."

"What was missing from what?"

"Anger! Natalie… the SUV creamed that car—ran a red light and slammed right into him—and your guy didn't even yell at the other guy!"

"My guy?" Natalie fumed, her face turning red. "Play fair, Adrian. What about your Layla?"

He put his shopping bag-clad hands up in surrender.

"That was years ago. Can you believe—her never speaking to me again because I was simply following the due course of law? Those Zemenians must really be anarchic heathens!"

"You were simply blinded by lov—"

"That _bagger_," he began, attempting to divert the subject. "There was no anger, Natalie! No road rage! You'd think he'd be furious that his car was destroyed by a lawbreaker!"

"Ehh, that car looked like crap to begin with," she commented dully, happy that he'd dropped the subject of the man's name, yet disappointed that he had successfully steered away from talk of love. "I'm surprised it even ran," she added. "Maybe he'd be _glad_ if it was totaled."

"Oh God," Adrian suddenly admitted, slapping his grocery bag off his face as he touched his forehead. "How did I not see it?"

"Oh God what?"

"Insurance fraud. Think about it. You watch—in a week or two he'll complain of neck pains, run to the doctor, get a huge settlement…. He may even have a past—would you know, by any chance? Seven, E G F, five four eight."

"No, Adrian, I wouldn't know," she admitted. Monk wasn't exactly coming across as jealous or possessive, as he had in what he presumed were his final days alive, but it still bothered her for him to mention that particular man again and again. They _did_ have a past….

"Whose plate number is that?" she added, feeling dazed.

"Your guy—I'm sorry, I mean…. The driver of the red car."

* * *

Upon arriving back at his apartment, Adrian recorded the license plate numbers from memory, with Monk insisting Natalie call the captain to run the numbers. He paced anxiously back and forth as he spoke, highly agitated.

"Why would I want to do that?" she asked him, as he attempted to badger her for the fifth time since getting home.

"Insurance fraud—there'd be a record of it. Something was strange about that crime scene—"

"It's not a crime scene."

He stopped pacing for a moment, looking at her as if she had just told him the earth was flat.

"How can you say that?" he questioned. "There was _littering_, if nothing else. The red car left a piece of its fender on the road."

"Can I ask you a question?"

Natalie stood resolute, her arms crossed in front of her, blocking Monk from pacing to his bookcase again. Surprised at the sudden interference, he stopped millimeters away from running into her and confused, looked into her eyes.

"What?"

"Are you doing this to get back at Pete because he dated me? I can assure you that what he and I had ended very badly and more importantly it ended a long time ago and—"

"What are you talking about?" Monk sputtered. "Do I look like the kind of person who'd incriminate someone because of something—"

"Yes," she interrupted. "Remember the nudist?"

"Ugh, why did you remind me," he lamented, wiping his forehead with a hand.

"You wanted _him_ to be the guy just because he liked being naked—"

"Okay, Natalie!" Monk exclaimed. "You got me. But I assure you; that is not the case here. Grimmalter's not a nudist, is he?" Immediately he closed his eyes and shook his head. "Wait—don't answer that."

She remained silent. When he finally opened his eyes she still hadn't said anything. It was odd for her to fall so silent. Monk's curiosity increased to unbearable levels.

"Natalie," Monk began, his voice shaking with anxiety, "was he a—"

"No. He wasn't," she replied, throwing up her arms in frustration. "So can you just drop this whole crash investigating thing?! It's not like you're an insurance agent…."

"I just can't stop thinking about it," he admitted. When he glanced Natalie's way, he saw that she was rolling her eyes. He had to clarify. "And it's not because you had a past with him. I don't care about that. It's just…"

"Would you drop this whole thing if I call the captain and check into it?" Natalie suddenly blurted.

He simply nodded at her, his smile resolute. Monk swallowed the feeling of triumph. He had gotten what he wanted.

* * *

"_What's this all about, Natalie?_" Captain Stottlemeyer asked Natalie after she told him the two plate numbers to run.

"Oh, there was a wreck today at the intersection of Stockton and Post. These are the plates of the two involved. The UTT plate guy ran a red light and slammed into the EGF plate guy that was passing through the intersection."

"_What; were the cops not called?_"

"No, they were called. They showed up and took the information."

"_Then what's the problem? If there's something on either of the guys' records, it'll show then._"

"Adrian has a weird feeling, Captain. Maybe insurance fraud or something, he says."

"_A weird feeling_," the captain said, letting out a large breath. "_For anyone else I wouldn't take it seriously, but we all know Monk's intuition about this stuff. Lemme run these numbers for ya…._"

"Must be weird not having Randy there, eh?" Natalie asked.

"_Actually, it's a bit _less_ weird not having him here. No more off-the-wall theories. Not that I don't miss him, of course…_"

"Who's going to fill his shoes?"

"_Monk'll be happy to hear this one. It's his old partner Joe Christie—he's gonna be promoted to Lieutenant next month. He'll be working in Randy's spot_. _Well, I ran the plates, Natalie. There's nothing on the guy with the EGF plates—didn't you say that was the guy that was hit?" _

Natalie turned to Adrian, disappointment in her eyes.

"The red car guy is clean," she informed Monk. He didn't look convinced.

"_So, in regards to your inquiry—their names are Pete Grimmalter—that's the EGF plate guy—and Frank Cooper—the UTT guy,_" the captain continued._ "Not even a moving violation for either of them_."

"Grimmalter…." Monk muttered, suddenly looking deep in thought. "That name sounds familiar, and not just to you, Natalie. Have there been any recent stories in the news regarding that name?"

"What news?" Natalie shot back at him, rolling her eyes at his mention of her knowing Pete Grimmalter. "I'm sure I would have noticed if it was in the paper…."

"_Is Monk asking me to look that up?_" the captain asked, having heard Monk's question. "_The name sounds familiar to me too. I'm probably gonna feel really stupid when I find out what it is_. _Oh… Bingo. Put me on speaker, Natalie."_

Natalie pressed the button that caused the captain's deep voice to bellow into Monk's living room.

"_Am I on it now?_"

"Yes, Captain," Natalie replied.

"_Well, you're right, Monk. That name _has_ been in the news. Pete Grimmalter's wife went missing a week ago—Maggie Grimmalter._"

"Is he not a suspect?" Monk looked a bit stunned at the realization, yet remained deep in thought.

"_He was cleared of being a suspect_," the captain explained. "_It's still an open case though, one that was dumped on my desk a couple of days ago—I knew the name sounded familiar. Guess I'm losing my memory in my old age. Anyway, he has an alibi—he left for a training conference in Vegas several days before she disappeared. He never left the conference and spoke at several of the seminars."_

"Seminars? In Las Vegas?" Monk asked, looking puzzled. Vegas was the place for vices, for debauchery; not for conferences.

"_He's an addiction counselor—for compulsive gamblers._"

"So she was seen while he was away?" Monk ventured.

"_Apparently the last time someone saw her was the morning of her disappearance, four days after her husband left for the conference. She took a crapload of money out of their bank account and took off."_

"How much money?"

"_Five hundred thousand dollars. She left about one hundred seventy thousand in the account. They had a pretty good nest egg, eh?_"

"That's an odd figure," Monk commented.

"_Why's that?_"

"Well—it's even. And it's a lot more than she'd need to start a new life elsewhere—if that's what she was intending to do."

"_Why is it odd that it's even?_" the captain asked, but then realized how strange his question sounded. "_What I mean to say, is—_"

"It's like a ransom or something," Monk interrupted. "—half a million. Did she specify the way in which the money was given to her?"

"_I don't think so, Monk. But a ransom? She was free to move around. No one was with her at the bank_."

"Oh, so she went into the bank to withdraw the money?"

"_Yep." _

"That's not what I would have expected, if she was trying to keep a low profile. She could've driven through the drive-thru."

"_That's too much money to ask for through a drive-thru, Monk. Actually, I think it would have been _more _unusual if she went through the drive-thru to withdraw the money._"

"I guess I see your point," Monk admitted. "Was she acting strangely?"

"_The tellers the SFPD interviewed said she seemed a bit nervous. Hell, if _I_ were planning on running out on my wife with our life savings I'd be nervous too. Apparently there was word that she was having an affair on her husband, but no one knows with who. I think it's a pretty open and shut case. She'll probably turn up in a few years with a new name._"

"What does she do for work?"

"_She's an RN. Works at St. Jude's._"

"Well then, she makes plenty of money on her own," Monk stated. "Why would she go through the trouble of entering a bank before taking off with a bunch of money? If she were planning this all along, you'd think she'd be saving her own money off to the side—and then take it all with her without arousing suspicion."

"_I dunno, Monk. Maybe she _wants_ her husband to know—you know, one last parting shot before she takes off._"

"If she's the one who's cheating, why would _she_—"

"_Man, you're already knee-deep in what we know about this case, and all because of a fender-bender!_"

"It wasn't just a fender-bender, Captain…."

Somewhere behind Monk, Natalie rolled her eyes.

"_Maybe the guy's not thinking straight, Monk. Maybe he's so distraught over his wife gone missing that he didn't see the guy coming. Sometimes, things just happen. The guy's obviously had a rotten week._"

"He didn't seem distraught," Monk dead-panned. "He was busy hitting on Natalie… smiling, talking…."

"He wasn't hitting on me!" Natalie exclaimed, shaking her head emphatically. "He just recognized me, is all."

"_Wait—you know him, Natalie?_" the captain's voice boomed over the speakerphone. Natalie rolled her eyes.

"It was a long time ago," she replied. "Haven't spoken to him in decades."

"_Small world, isn't it? Well, if you can think of something else, let me know," _the captain offered._ "Otherwise, I need to get—_"

"I wonder if Grimmalter went to work today," Monk suddenly blurted. Natalie instantly looked confused.

"_Why's that?"_

"He was dressed oddly. He was wearing a weird blue coat several sizes too small on him. Doesn't seem the kind of thing a counselor would wear, especially on a work day." He turned to Natalie, his look questioning. "Did he wear that kind of stuff when you—"

"Argh!" she groaned. "As I said, that was a long time ago! Let it go!"

"_I'll let you kids work this out on your own_," the captain suddenly said, amusement in his tone. "_If you can think of something else about the guy that we might've missed, let me know_."

* * *

After the captain had been disconnected, Natalie turned fully to face Adrian. She could have sworn he cringed a bit, as if he knew what was coming.

"Adrian, I'm not sure why you keep harping on this. If you hadn't talked to the guy he'd never have seen me. It's your fault he even spoke to me."

"He's not just some guy I talked to, Natalie; he's Pete Grimmalter and his wife is missing—probably murdered."

"Now, why do you say that?" she replied, crossing her arms. This was just getting ridiculous.

"She disappeared a week ago, right? And a _week_ later he's smiling at old sex lovers and shaking hands with people who wreck into his car?! It just doesn't… jive."

"Speaking of sex lovers, Adrian," Natalie replied, attempting to segue. "I wanted to talk ab—"

"Don't you think it's weird, Natalie?" he interrupted. "I think we should talk with the responding officer who took their information. Maybe Pete Grimmalter said something self-incriminating."

"Are you looking into this because you really feel something happened, or because you're a little jealous?" Natalie said with a flirtation in her tone, nudging him with her shoulder. She had to get him riled up in some way. It seemed pretty obvious that Grimmalter's wife had left him and he hadn't been paying attention as he drove through the intersection, so why was Adrian harping on this?

"Wh-what are you talking about?" he stammered, anxiety in his tone. "If you would have been watching the scene, you would have seen that it was—"

"It's okay, Adrian," she said with a teasing wink. "No need to explain."

"Natalie, you've got it all wrong," he replied, gesticulating for emphasis. "We should call the captain back to get the name of the officer who was there. I didn't recognize him; did you?"

She sighed.

"No, I didn't recognize him," she admitted.

Maybe Monk had no ulterior motives, but it wasn't like he'd be paid for this case. What was the incentive for him to figure this out? Boredom? She could think of _great_ things to alleviate that… if only Adrian would let her bring up the subject….

Meanwhile, Natalie had to endure his body brushing against like the softest of feathers as he brushed past her to the kitchen, his ability to move around in the tightest of spaces without bumping into her, the way he could sit right next to her yet restrict their bodily contact to a single pair of intertwined hands—all while she barely held back the strongest of urges to just pounce on him and reintroduce him to a world he was far removed from. Maybe then he'd be too preoccupied to continue yanking this particular skeleton out of her closet….


	4. The Said and the Unsaid

**A/N: Thank you THANK YOU so much for your reviews! You have been so encouraging and your excitement for the next chapter got me finishing this up much sooner than I had originally intended—along with the addition of some scenes! This is a rather long chapter, I must warn you! Please let me know if you'd like to see more!**

* * *

Two hours later and Monk and Natalie were sitting in the SFPD office speaking to the responding officer about the wreck.

"They seemed like decent enough guys," the cop admitted. "Cooper—the guy who was in the SUV—was totally apologetic."

"Did you find out anything on him?"

"Apparently he filed bankruptcy several months ago…. Must've gotten out of it since then, because he didn't seem to be upset that he'd be forking over the insurance deductible."

"What about the other guy?" Monk asked, his tone insistent, touching the man's desk lamp with a tentative finger as he spoke. "Pete Grimmalter. Did he say anything?"

The officer gave Monk a weird look but didn't say anything about the lamp, confirming his newness in the department. "Grimmalter asked me if exchanging info in the guy's car was illegal, and I said no."

"Did he say anything about his wife?"

"Why's that, Mr. Monk?" Of course this young rookie cop wasn't familiar with the disappearance case. He was part of a different branch of the force, one that involved writing out speeding tickets and citing people for moving violations. He wouldn't have been informed about Grimmalter's wife.

"She disappeared a week ago," Monk replied, his face in a kind of squint. "Did he mention her?"

"Really? Didn't know that. Well, he didn't say anything about her directly—" –Monk's face fell at what seemed to be a dead end, then the man continued. "—but I do recall him mentioning that he was wearing her jacket."

Monk scrunched up his face with confusion. Right. The ill-fitting bright blue jacket that Grimmalter was wearing. It clearly wasn't his jacket and could certainly be a woman's.

"What made him say that? Did you ask him about it?"

"No," the man replied. "He just said he got into the guy's car because he didn't want the jacket he was wearing—his wife's jacket—to shrink any more from the rain."

"Why would he have chosen to wear his wife's clothes?" Monk asked aloud, to no one in particular. It was odd, considering she had taken most of their life savings and possibly been cheating on him. Therein followed a silence in which he considered the implications. Finally he turned back to the officer.

"Is there anything else you remember about Grimmalter?"

The cop scratched his head and shrugged.

"Not really, just a run-of-the-mill filing of an accident report."

"I do recall him not getting into your car so that you could take down the information," Monk noted. "You all just stood next to the SUV."

"That's true. What are you getting at, Mr. Monk? I'm not sure what you're implying…."

"Oh, nothing yet," Monk added hastily. "It just doesn't all add up…."

* * *

"I don't understand how you can notice something _not _happening," Natalie commented, as they left their impromptu interview of the officer.

"What do you mean?"

"Like Grimmalter _not_ getting into the cop's car. How do you notice things like that?"

"He was more than willing to get into the SUV of the guy that hit him. For someone to be so concerned about rain one minute and the next not to care, it's very strange."

Natalie couldn't help but roll her eyes. Monk was actually looking for things that_ didn't _happen in an attempt to strengthen his case against Grimmalter.

"I'd like to get copies of the case folder on Maggie Grimmalter," he muttered. "While we're here, we can kill two birds."

Natalie listened for him to finish his sentence, but that was it.

"You didn't finish the saying," Natalie pointed out. "It's 'kill two birds with one—"

"See, you just noticed me _not_ saying something," Monk interrupted, looking satisfied. "It's not so strange."

"Alright; you got me," she admitted, putting her hands up in surrender.

* * *

"You do realize this is officially a missing persons case," Captain Stottlemeyer told Monk as he handed him the copy of the file on Maggie Grimmalter.

"I realize that."

"But if you do think of somethin', be sure to let me know. We already questioned Grimmalter and the guy seems blameless enough…."

"Do you have any cases you'd like to _officially_ hire Adrian for?" Natalie piped up. It had been more than two weeks since Monk had made any money and so help her, this pseudo-case wasn't going to be the sole focus of the next several weeks, a case with no benefit to him. She had to look out for Monk, being as he was rather timid in demanding pay raises and the like. She had to be his champion.

"We really got nothin' at the moment, being as the economy sucks so bad right now. Interestingly enough, San Francisco violent crime has plummeted since the whole financial crisis-slash-housing collapse. It's a good thing, but also kinda bad for us in a way."

"A blessing… and a curse," Monk added.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," the captain replied, sitting back down in his desk chair with a smile. "Wanna stick around for awhile? I think we're gonna have a pizza delivered to the station in about a half hour."

"No thanks, Captain. I'm going to read this case file over," he said, indicating the folder. He flashed a big excited smile at Natalie. "Besides, it's chicken pot pie night!"

* * *

Natalie and Adrian went back to her house for the evening, Adrian settling onto her couch with the folder as she headed into the kitchen to begin preparation of the chicken pot pies. He remained largely silent as he scanned through the information in the file. Eventually he grew tired of what he was reading and stood up.

"Find anything interesting?" Natalie inquired, glad to see him moving around again. Monk's expression was that of disappointment.

"They searched the house, the cars—and didn't find anything. No blood, no sign of a struggle, no notes or anything. But here's the thing: she didn't take either of their cars the day of her disappearance. The neighbors said both cars sat in the driveway all day. The police are writing it off as her keeping a low profile by taking the bus, but I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean? That makes perfect sense. I've taken the bus to the airport before."

"Does the bus stop near your bank?" Monk asked her. "That's the bank where she withdrew the money that morning."

She thought for a moment as she put the pot pies in the oven. There was indeed a bus stop outside of the bank—she recalled that it had been vandalized a few years back with baseball bats. The shards of glass had been littered all over the road and had given her a flat tire when she pulled into the bank parking lot, which sat right next to the bus stop. Monk had insisted on getting out of the car and individually picking up every glass shard before they could leave. Needless to say, he had _not _helped in changing her flat tire.

"How could you forget—you don't remember the flat tire I had—and the glass everywhere? Unfortunately there _is_ a bus stop there. It makes perfect sense now; don't you see?" Natalie said, throwing up her hands. "She took the bus."

"Here's the thing," he began haltingly. "The bus stop she would have walked to from her house is a couple blocks up the street from their house, which means that she'd be seen by her neighbors. And if she had any luggage she'd had to have dragged it into the bank with her—which she didn't. The tellers would have mentioned that in their police interviews, but they didn't."

"I thought you were done with noticing things _not_ being said," Natalie cut in. "Guess I was wrong."

"Half of what makes up a case is what _isn't_ done and what _isn't_ said. There's a kind of balance—a symmetry. Now, what I'd like to do are see the tapes from the bank's video recordings—and talk to Grimmalter about that day."

Natalie's eyebrows rose.

"How are you going to do that? He already talked to the police, right?"

"He did, but he was prepared for that. We need to catch him off-guard and just ask him a couple of questions. He'll be unsuspecting."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

He cleared his throat, looking immensely uncomfortable with what he was going to say next.

"I was thinking… you could meet with him—in a public place."

* * *

"You want me to talk alone with a possible murderer?!" she replied, her voice harsh but low.

"_Now_ you think he's a murderer? I thought you said—"

"I don't know what to think!" she spat. "You want to put my life at risk because you want to learn more about some guy that isn't involved with your life at all!"

"Your life wouldn't be at risk, Natalie. I'd be there."

Really though, it wasn't just the issue of her safety that pitted Natalie against this idea. She had been hoping deep within her psyche that her fiancé's obsession with her ex was merely a case of jealousy. The fact that he wanted her to meet with this man one-on-one quelled that, hurting her feelings rather unexpectedly in the process.

"What are you talking about?" she hissed. "He's not going to talk to you! Remember what I told him? You're a famous detective!"

"Ahh," Monk said with a throaty sound. "And that explains why he excused himself right after you told him about me. He's hiding something, Natalie."

"If that's true, why should I be the one to discover it? I don't care either way about what he did or didn't do. There's no benefit to your pursuing this case—you're not going to get some kind of award for risking _my _life, no less!"

His expression became glum as he strode toward the kitchen. When he spoke again, his voice was light and timid.

"Don't you think that if he's responsible for his wife's disappearance that he should pay?"

Natalie spun around, feeling her rage building stronger and stronger. How dare he ask this of her!

"You would be risking my safety—and there's the possibility that you'd find out nothing. If he killed her, don't you think he's capable of killing me? I'm not just your pushover assistant anymore. I'm your fiancée."

His face fell, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically as he took a slow breath. Even so, he didn't seem completely convinced.

"I know, I know," Adrian replied impatiently. "I just have one—one thing. He's an addiction counselor, right?" Monk asked.

"Uh, yeah?" Natalie replied, her arms crossed protectively in front of her.

"Why don't you schedule an appointment at his office, talk to him at work. You were a gambling addict at one point, right? I'd go with you—though obviously not into his office. He wouldn't dare do—"

"That's how I met him in the first place," Natalie replied with a sneer.

"What—you mean, you saw him as a counselor?"

"Yes—and then I started _seeing_ him." She felt completely violated at this… this thing Monk wanted her to do. Not only did he not feel even a _bit_ protective of her, but also he was pushing her into the mouth of the beast—someone she'd hoped he'd want her to steer clear of!

"Doesn't that violate doctor-patient—"

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly. Monk wrinkled his brow distastefully.

"I thought you were with Mitch when you were addicted to gambling."

"I'd been addicted to gambling since my early twenties, before I met Mitch. I started going to Pete's office to get over the addiction and as you can guess, it didn't work."

"So it's already been established with him that you have a gambling problem—and he didn't fix it. So he won't suspect you at all if you go see him."

Instead of replying, Natalie turned around and stormed upstairs, her eyes suddenly feeling hot. Adrian's nonchalance about this whole task he wanted her to perform hit her like a punch to the gut. This wasn't an even relationship—she didn't expect him to change his quirks, habits, or fears, but he expected her to meet up with a past lover who'd possibly murdered his wife! Did Adrian not have _one_ ounce of regard for her safety? He had been insensitive to her in the past, but she figured those days were behind her now that they were to be married. Adrian Monk had hurt her more than she ever imagined he could.

* * *

Adrian Monk was extremely confused by Natalie's reaction. What he had proposed to her he figured would be the simplest way to extract information from Pete Grimmalter without raising his suspicion. He never dreamed she'd respond in such a way. Yes, the two of them had a past, but he trusted Natalie—and he trusted that she'd keep any of Grimmalter's advances at bay. He'd be right there in the waiting room, for God's sake! Was there something he was missing?

Sighing audibly, he began the long trudge up the stairs to where she was presumably locked in her bathroom, the only door of the house that locked. His footfalls over the carpeted hardwood floor were louder than his liking, and he stopped in front of the bathroom at the end of the hall, the sniffling from inside confirming his intuition.

Then it hit him: Natalie was crying! Oh God, what had he done?

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Adrian leaned his head against the bathroom door, unsure of what to say first. Before he could utter a word he cleared his throat.

"Natalie?" he mumbled. "Natalie, what's wrong?"

"Just go away," she replied, the acoustics of the bathroom making her voice seem louder. It was a good thing Julie was over at a friend's house for the evening. Though she hadn't allowed herself to actually cry, her nose was trying desperately to run.

"Wh-what happened downstairs?" he muttered. "I—I don't know what happened, because one minute you were fine and the next—you're up here."

"If you can't figure it out, I feel sorry for you."

"Join the club," Monk muttered, scoffing silently. Even so, now was not the time to attempt to evoke pity from her. Something he had said or done had hurt her and she was now angry with him. This was about _her_, not about him.

"I'm not good at this kind of thing," he muttered with his head down, jiggling the locked doorknob. He noticed a nick in the door and thumbed it idly, trying to remember if Natalie had any varnish to fix it.

"What kind of thing?" she retorted quickly.

"Uhm," he murmured, having been interrupted from his goal of getting varnish. "This—emotional, kind of… thing. I haven't lived with a woman for—"

"You wouldn't ask this of Trudy," Natalie interrupted. She hated to bring up the name, but it was perhaps the only thing he'd understand.

"Wait—what are you talking about?" He was instantly alarmed. Why had she mentioned Trudy in all of this? What did his late wife have to do with Pete Grimmalter and Natalie's current state of mind?

"You wouldn't ask Trudy to meet with a possible murderer," Natalie shot.

"She was a journalist, Natalie," he replied, his voice earnest. The nick in the door had to be at least half a centimeter long. How had he not noticed it before? "She did that on her own," he added. "Several times a week she'd go to the prisons…"

"That's different," Natalie cut in. "Those people were behind bars. There's a real threat here. Something bad could happen. Don't you think about that?"

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you," he said, leaning more heavily on the door. "Why don't you come out of the bathroom?"

"Ha!" she replied, her tone dripping with bitterness. "I'd rather stay in here; thank you very much."

"Natalie, I—I just—have a feeling that there's more to Grimmalter than meets the eye," Monk explained, unable to stop staring at the nick. "He wasn't the least bit mad at the guy who hit his car. His wife just left him and took almost all of their life savings. He should be a basket case. You saw him. He seemed just fine."

"Maybe the end of his marriage was a long time in the making. Maybe he knew it was coming." Her tone was as cold as ice.

"Even if that's true, I'm sure he didn't expect her to clean out most of their savings. That alone should've enraged him. He's hiding something."

There was about ten seconds in which a thick expectant silence hung in the air. Natalie spoke next, her voice now closer to the bathroom door. Perhaps she was feeling better!

"What about the SUV?" she asked. "Why are you focusing on Pete and not the other guy? It was he who barreled through the intersection and caused the wreck."

"Because as far as I know, the other guy doesn't have a missing wife."

"You just don't get it, do you?" she spat, her voice further from the door now. "I'm really upset that you're asking me to do this even though you know how I feel about it." Monk sighed silently as he stared at the door, running his finger along the lines of the wood grain. This was so new to him and yet he had experienced it years before, with Trudy: someone's moods being affected by _him_. It was a strange feeling to realize that what he said and didn't say and did and didn't do could drive Natalie to be angry or upset and not just in an unappreciated assistant kind of way as had been customary. This was a more personal kind of pain, something that hit closer to him than before. As he stood by the door feeling drained of all energy, he realized that it was hurting _him_ to hurt her feelings.

With her completely silent behind the locked door, Adrian felt fear creep into his mind, an overwhelming cloud that suppressed any other thought—the cooking chicken pot pie, the nick on the bathroom door, the wine stain on the third stair. Thinking of Natalie in that bathroom, her face red, chest heaving with anger and her vision shaking with adrenaline, made him afraid. And not for his own personal health or safety; he was afraid that she didn't love him anymore.

It was then that something hit him: he was asking the woman who loved him to meet with a man he believed to have murdered his wife just because Natalie had personal ties with him in the past. Trudy had been killed under a similar situation, in the investigation of a cold murder case. Ethan Rickover had been the murderer then, and he had certainly not been behind bars. Monk immediately felt cold all over, like he had just been dunked into a vat of ice water. Guilt and shame flooded him. He had been stupid and had it not been for Natalie's common sense, she might have ended up just like Trudy. And it would have been all his fault. The thought was almost too much to bear.

"Natalie," he called out, his voice catching in his throat. His face was now hot with shame.

"Forget it, Adrian."

"I'm sorry—Natalie," he blurted into the door. It was certainly easier to apologize to a door than it was right to her face but he had done it. He did not have the gift of easy speech, and explaining all that he had just thought in his head was next to impossible. What would she say now?

He was met with silence. Had an apology not been good enough? What was he supposed to say? He pondered it as Natalie remained stubbornly silent behind the locked bathroom door.

"You don't have to see Grimmalter," he said, feeling smaller and smaller. "I shouldn't have asked you to do that. Can you come out of there now?"

It had been too soon, he realized with a sigh. He should have given her another minute or two and then asked her to come out of the bathroom.

"Natalie, please forget that I ever asked. I was stupid," he said, gesturing with his hand as well even though she couldn't see it. "I won't mention the guy again."

"Are you just saying that?" she said quietly, after a beat. He hesitated. Was he simply making up a lie to get her out of the bathroom and back to smiling and making chicken pot pie?

No. It wasn't worth the risk to Natalie's own safety to find out about a guy that Natalie was obviously extremely uncomfortable talking about. Natalie had never forced him to rehash the day his father left or the countless torrents of bullying all through his school years or the day that Trudy died or his wealth of regrets on things he had and hadn't done in his marriage—and he was thankful for that. And now was not the time to begin doing things he'd regret.

"No; I'm not just saying that. I wasn't thinking, Natalie…. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

He waited for what seemed like an eternity as silence answered him. He felt utterly ashamed and had it not been for the door, he would have fallen to his knees.

"Okay," Natalie finally replied, her voice low. He heard her footfalls headed for the door, and stared downwards in an attempt to see her shadow under the door.

* * *

As she opened the door, Adrian hadn't yet taken his weight off of it and he stumbled towards her, his body colliding with hers in front of the claw foot tub.

Just before she could run into the tub with the back of her calves, he wrapped his arms around her and halted the momentum of the movement. They were pressed flush against each other, his face leaning on her shoulder, head down and face buried in her shirt. She felt him clutch her tightly to him, the movement of his chest muscles as he held her silently, and she wrapped her arms around him in kind.

"I'm in no danger of falling now," Natalie said to break the silence, her statement half in jest regarding just how tightly he was clinging to her now, like he couldn't let her go.

"I can't lose you," he mumbled, his hot breath on her shoulder, disregarding what she had said. "Can you forgive me?"

"It's okay, Adrian. You're not going to lose me," she replied as she soothingly rubbed his back, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotion from Monk. It wasn't often that Adrian Monk unabashedly hugged anyone; well, come to think of it—the reversal of the Earth's magnetic poles probably happened more often.

It was then that Monk pulled his head back so that he was now looking into Natalie's eyes, his face mere inches from her own. Her breath caught in her throat at this proximity. It was as if his blush of shame was emanating heat. At the sight of Natalie's tear-free and faintly smiling visage, a big toothy smile instantaneously spread across Monk's face.

"You don't know how happy it makes me to hear you say that," he murmured, his smile remaining. He leaned towards her and her heart caught in her throat. His lips parted as if to speak. She could only smile and anticipate what he would say. She noticed that the top button of his collar was open, exposing curls of dark hair. It was amazing how something so seemingly innocuous could get her so hot and bothered.

"I was wondering… if you have something I can use…." he began haltingly.

"Yes?" she replied quickly, pulling him closer against her body as she spoke. _Oh my God. Is he asking for a—_

"—do you have any varnish?"

Natalie's face instantly twisted into one of confusion. At the sight of her mood change, Monk's smile disappeared.

"Why?" she managed to ask, crestfallen.

"Because there's a—there's a nick on the bathroom... door," he sputtered, now looking embarrassed. Her look of confusion never left her face and he knew that he had interrupted a rare moment. "Uhm, never mind," he corrected, shaking his head and shutting his eyes. "It can wait."

"Are you sure?" she asked in an innocent tone of voice. Was he seriously going to ignore one of his compulsions to continue this intimate moment?

"Definitely," he replied, his eyes playful, mouth drawn up like a bow. "It can definitely wait." His bear-like hug became looser around her waist but now his hands were clutching her back with need as his naughty smile continued, his eyes boring into hers.

Adrian Monk's gaze was so intense she could have swooned. Natalie glanced again at the curls of dark hair exposed at the junction of his collarbones, and watched his Adam's apple rise and fall. When her eyes again locked on his, a brazen come-hither look now on her face, Adrian Monk could only grunt as he promptly pushed her up against the wall, planting his hands on the wall on either side of her with that mischievous grin still on his face. This was one side of Adrian Monk she had not yet seen, a side she wanted to see more of… right now. She found herself praying an odd prayer as she anticipated his next move: _please, chicken pot pies; bake slowly and don't set off the smoke alarm!_

_

* * *

_**A/N: Cliffhanger! So, do you want to see more? Do you want to see less? Are Adrian and Natalie in character? Any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated!**


	5. PDA

**A/N: I'm sorry it took me a while to post this chapter! I had written up about half this chapter a couple of days ago, but my word processor didn't save it and I lost everything! It definitely got me down, because I had been so happy with that draft! In my other chapters, I had some idea before I posted the previous chapter what my next chapter would be about! This one I began writing only after the last chapter was posted. Some of your ideas have been incorporated, so I hope you'll enjoy that! Anyway, please let me know what you think about this chapter! I do already have some ideas for where the next chapter will go, so hopefully it won't take as long to post as this very long chapter did! Thank you all (ALEX, SpaceCadet47, MonkNat08, Monkfan, Monkwriter, Frenho) for your kind reviews and your very encouraging feedback! **

* * *

Natalie took in the view in front of her: Adrian Monk standing very close to her, his hairy hands on the wall on either side of her. His top button was undone, affording her the smallest peek of the chest hair between his collarbones, his full lips curled into a smile she had perhaps only seen on him once or twice before. And to think that ten minutes ago she was unbelievably angry with this man in front of her, this man who seemed more than willing to work for her forgiveness. At that time, she had not believed he could hurt her so badly with his words, but now she was in a different yet similar situation. Adrian Monk, the once-called 'defective detective', had ignited fire within her—and dare she think it, _passion_. If it were up to her she'd have promptly ripped his shirt right off of him and had him right there, but then, he'd probably be fixated on locating and re-affixing the buttons that would've flown off during the encounter.

All the while Adrian couldn't help but think of how this image of Natalie standing before him would forever be ingrained in his memory. Her back was up against the wall, palms flat against the wall, legs side by side, very symmetrically standing in front of him. She had no shoes on, but rather a flowy semi-sheer jacket over a tight, short-sleeved green top made of some kind of lightweight material. Though Trudy had more of a—well, a _décolletage_ than Natalie, the angle of Natalie's shoulders narrowing down to a tiny waist and back into a pair of symmetrical hips was all woman. Her legs were bare below the knee, a black skirt made of some kind of synthetic material covering her from waist to knee level, outlining the curve of her hip then moving downward and inward to follow the shape of her long slender legs. God, how had he not noticed that before—that womanly symmetry, that hourglass figure? His eyes wandered upward, a kind of strange hot pressure stirring in his entire body, a sensation so unfamiliar to him it was downright terrifying. His eyes moved furtively to her neck, her jaw line, and finally settled on her face. Her mouth was drawn up into a naughty little smile, her eyes sparkling at him, almost daring him to try something, anything.

"Natalie, I—" he began haltingly, his eyes dropping for an instant then returning as if ashamed.

"You don't need to say anything," she murmured, her little grin returning immediately thereafter.

It was all so much pressure! His brain was utterly throbbing. Could this be the time that things would go further? He wasn't prepared at all! He wanted her; God, he wanted just to be completely normal and do completely normal things for once! Life was so difficult! What, if suddenly in the midst of _things_, he was reminded of why he had avoided these kinds of acts for so many years? The sweat, the smell, the… fluids. No! He couldn't think about this now! For God's sake, he hadn't even so much as kissed her yet! To be so presumptuous as to suppose it could go any further was not his M.O. _No, it won't go any further_, he told himself. _But then—how had I let go before? Did I have to chant some kind of mantra? I don't remember!_

His mind was for the moment being trumped by the subconscious response of his body to this woman who wanted him, this woman willingly allowing herself to be trapped between his hands. His bodily response to her was alarming to say the least and he dared not look below Natalie's shoulder level. Rather, he concentrated on breathing normally between the rapid thuds of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. His eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of the very tip of Natalie's tongue moistening her lower lip and soon his body was no longer under his conscious control.

As Natalie gazed deeply and intensely into his eyes, she saw him approaching her, eyes locked on hers as if refusing to let her out of his sight. Her smile widened as it became apparent that he was going to do it. _Kiss me, dammit!_ her brain yelled and then she felt Adrian's lips unite with her own. His hands, which had been on the wall, now moved to her hips and she found herself wrapping her arms around his back, pulling him closely against her body. _Wait a second…._

A piercing alarm cut through the thick silence of the moment, startling the pair so much that they staggered sideways, their blossoming kiss breaking in the process.

"What's that?" Adrian said with a slur, his body language indicating definite disappointment. That entire argument had escalated into a rather wonderful opportunity for them to make up and more. And now that damn chicken pot pie….

"The chicken pot pies," she murmured, self-consciously straightening her shirt. "In the oven."

"They're ruined," he mumbled glumly, throwing his hands up in despair. "And it's all my fault."

"What makes you say that?" she replied quickly. "Believe me; what was going on the meantime just now was—"

"Ruined as well," he cut in, looking crestfallen.

"Not necessarily," she corrected, holding up a finger and moving towards the door. "Let me just take it out of the oven and I'll be back."

"I can just come with you," he offered. "You may need some help."

"Don't worry about it, Adrian," she said soothingly. "I'll be fine. I've burned plenty of food over the years."

She had to use all her will power to move away from him towards the kitchen. As she headed down the hallway, Monk spoke up.

"Do you have a fire extinguisher?" he suddenly asked her, his face earnest.

"Of course," she replied, confused. A fire extinguisher would be an overreaction. More than likely a bit of the pie had spilled out of the pie pan and fallen on the heating elements. Electric stoves had their disadvantages….

"Where is it?"

"In the hall closet there," she indicated, pointing at a door near the bathroom.

"You mean, you don't have one in the kitchen?"

"No, I keep it up here. Just in case there's a fire in the bedrooms." Just then she blushed crimson. Her words had quite the double meaning and it amused her. If it wasn't for those damn pot pies, who knows what kind of fire may have erupted?

"You need at least two, Natalie, though I'd prefer one in every room," he responded, the double entendre clearly going over his head. "At least with two it's even."

"Remind me next time we go shopping and I'll pick up one," she replied, continuing on her way.

"You never can be too careful," he said, his voice trailing off. She turned around fully and gave him a mischievous little smile. At her intense stare, he looked at himself and shrugged, painfully self-aware.

"Okay; I guess it's possible."

* * *

A bevy of cleaning supplies met Monk as he opened the closet door, with mops and brooms of all heights leaning towards him. He grabbed the fire extinguisher and deftly shut the door before they all fell, reminding himself to clean it out sometime soon. What was he kidding? The hard part was trying to _forget_ to do it.

As he descended the stairs, he noticed Natalie opening the stove without oven mitts on. Just as he was about to call out for her to be more careful, a giant fireball erupted from the oven, causing Natalie to backpedal too quickly and fall on her backside in front of the stove. The flames burped out from the oven, causing her to make a sound of surprise as she scrambled away from the intense heat.

His mind reeled. Without thinking, he pulled the pin on the extinguisher and ran towards the stove at full speed, dousing the fire and the oven with the stream from the extinguisher. Immediately afterwards he used his fingers to deftly turn off the oven. Natalie was still lying on the floor, stunned from what had just occurred.

Immediately Monk closed the oven door, put down the extinguisher and squatted down beside her.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm fine," she said, straightening her arms so that she was now in a seated position with her arms supporting her.

"You need another fire extinguisher—"

"I know. I'll get one," she replied, readying herself for a lecture on safety. She waited for the "here's the thing" that would begin a buzz-blowing conversation.

"Let me help you get up," he said warmly, standing up and offering her his hand. So he was going to let it slide! She took his hand without another word.

Once Natalie was standing, they surveyed the damage. Pieces of the white foamy stream from the extinguisher were splattered all over the stove and the chicken pot pies probably looked like coconut cream pies inside the oven. It was a complete disaster.

"You know, Adrian," she said, squeezing his hand as she spoke. "When I met you, you couldn't put out a trashcan fire. Now look at you!"

"I wasn't thinking," he admitted, realizing that they were still holding hands and yet not wanting to let go. "I didn't even stand 8 feet away—I was probably only 4 feet away. I just saw you fall and I didn't think about reading the directions…."

"My hero," she murmured, turning herself so that she was now facing him. Her face lingered close to his own, her breath light and warm on his face. He felt her free hand snake its way between his shoulder blades, resting firmly in the center of his back. She spoke, her voice a bit deeper than usual. "Now, where were we? Oh yes, we were about to—"

"To clean the oven," he replied, interrupting her. The look he received in reply was that of disappointment. When he continued, his discomfort was obvious. He threw up his free hand in frustration. "It's just… we can't let it just sit here like this…."

"It can wait," she responded. "It's not going anywhere."

"Here's the thing—that extinguisher residue… it's going to get hard and stick to the metal of your stove. We need to get it off before it does that."

"Silly Adrian," she teased, appearance positively naughty, "you can't get it off before it gets hard."

"What?" he asked, completely naïve to any kind of dirty talk. Okay, so that most certainly was never going to be effective. She wrote that off in her mind. "Yes, you can. It's actually really—"

"You're my hero, running down here and putting out that fire," she blurted. "Now I want to repay you."

Now she was using the hand entwined with his own to move his hand behind her back. Once his hand was around her waist, she released the handhold and wrapped her arms around Adrian's back. With a sly little smile on her face, she walked them both back into the living room.

"It was nothing…" he muttered.

"It was everything," she replied, her face moving towards his.

Their lips united once more, and the hot pressure in Adrian's system was back again as if it had never left. He could feel the warm breath exiting Natalie's nostrils as they kissed, the feeling of her warm body against his, her hands shifting around on his back, making strange motions upwards as they grasped his clothing. It seemed that she was trying to untuck his shirt from his trousers, but why would she be doing that? She was making little sounds that were clouding his rational thoughts and the only reminder of his physical body was the feeling of his shirt being untucked from around his waist.

Adrian couldn't help but shiver as Natalie untucked the back part of his shirt, her fingers contacting bare flesh. But what was the reason for the shiver? Was it because of anticipation or simply because he wasn't used to that portion of skin being exposed in any way?

It was then that Natalie broke the kiss for a moment and removed her hands from his back, giving him a grin that only meant one thing. Her hands now moved to her shoulders, and she shrugged off the jacket she'd been wearing. He was instantly alarmed, and looked around the room.

The window treatments in Natalie's house were not opaque enough to block out all light and movement. They were simple venetian blinds and were there more for style than for function! It would be as if they were in public, and that he couldn't abide. The kitchen's stained glass window somewhere behind them had no window treatments of any kind, for God's sake! Reason had taken over and his mind was working in overdrive, slowing down his heartbeat, his breathing; no, this wasn't going to work….

"What's wrong?" Natalie's voice cut through his thoughts, sensing his discomfort.

"It's just—this room. It's so… big and open—and visible from the road. It's like… being in public…."

"Well then, let's go upstairs!" she quickly suggested. "Problem solved!" She took his hand in her own and took a step towards the hallway. He didn't budge.

"Wait! Here's the thing—" he began, feeling overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. "It's just—I haven't—"

"Haven't what?"

"Uhm, it's just…I, uhm… I don't know how to say this…"

"You haven't done this before?" she stated boldly. He froze for a moment, taken aback by her brazenness.

"No, it's not that," he began haltingly, his face turning red with embarrassment. This was not a subject he liked to discuss. "I have, but it's been so long and—"

"Don't worry," she said soothingly. "I'll go slowly. Everything will be—"

"It's this… this _side_ of you," he admitted. "It's just—very new to me, and as you know I'm not very good with change."

"You don't like this change?" she asked him, a pout on her face. His eyes went wide and mouth fell open.

"Oh, I—I do. I just—it just takes some getting used to, that's all…."

"It's not that, Adrian; you need to get used to this side of _you_. You have such highly-developed instincts; you can read people, understand motives, know where people hide things…. You also have a natural instinct—maybe it's been neglected for awhile… but you have the capacity to do it _all_; to kiss, to touch, to—"

"Alright," he interrupted, shutting his eyes. "But Natalie, your house is so… open and un-private. Julie lives here!"

"She's not here right now…."

"But if something happened… here, and she then stands here in this… spot, it's like she was—_is_ here."

"Well, Julie doesn't hang out in my bedroom," Natalie replied curtly. She had to get things going if she was to remain feeling as hot and bothered as she was about ten minutes ago. Eventually Monk's reasoning would wear her down and she'd lose the feeling. Adrian was her fiancé and it was about time they began enjoying the kinds of things that fiancés did.

Monk could only stare at her, his face paling considerably. It was likely that he'd never been hit on so aggressively. How could she get through to him? Was this a self-esteem issue or a germ issue? She didn't get a chance to ask.

Her cell phone rang loud and clear on the kitchen counter. She let it ring twice without making a move to answer it, but the look of insistence from Monk made her change her mind.

It was Captain Stottlemeyer.

"_Hey Natalie_," he said. She replied with a half-hearted hello.

"_Did I catch you at a bad time? I can call back later_," he replied.

"No, it's not that," she said. "What's up?"

"_Well, it's the oddest thing. The Golden Bay Bank—"_

Natalie inadvertently gasped. That was the name of her bank.

"_It's the one on First and Harbor—I think that's your bank, Natalie."_

"Yes," she muttered. "What happened?"

" _It was held up a half hour ago. The thing is, though the robber entered the vault, they can't figure out what he or she took."_

"Hold on for a second; let me put you on speaker," she told the captain. Monk walked towards her, and the captain repeated what he'd just said.

"How did the robber get there?" Monk asked.

"_We don't know. They haven't started reviewing the tapes, but if you want to head down to the bank, it'd be a big help._"

"Was anyone hurt?"

"_No. No one saw a gun, either._"

"Why are you calling me then? No one was hurt and nothing was taken. It sounds like a failed bank robbery."

"_Well, I realize that you haven't had a case in a couple of weeks. This is a good way to make some money again. And it wasn't a failed bank robbery—the robber was let into the vault, took out the cameras there, and got away well before the cops arrived."_

Monk looked a bit disappointed at the captain's reasoning.

"Captain, I don't want you giving me cases because you feel sorry for—"

"We'll take the case!" Natalie blurted. No way was Monk going to pass up on a chance to make money on a case that didn't involve rotting bodies or some horribly violent intentions. Monk's reluctance to follow through with her romantic inclinations had embarrassed her and she was going to try a new method to perhaps get his interest: she was going to cool off and see how he reacted.

"_Great. So they're still combing the scene down at the bank. Come on down and take a look._"

After the call had ended, Monk couldn't help but watch Natalie with confusion. One minute she was ready to run upstairs and the next she was putting him on a case.

"Well, guess we better get going then!" Natalie exclaimed, walking over to her sloughed-off jacket and slipping it back on. Monk's mouth was slightly ajar as he stood staring at her, his shirt completely untucked. It was so very different seeing him in this light, but she would let him do his thing now and try to get her mind off being rejected by him.

* * *

Within twenty minutes Monk and Natalie were standing in the rotunda of the Golden Bay Bank. The SFPD was currently in the process of interviewing the tellers and an electrician had arrived to fix the camera wires that had been snipped. Captain Stottlemeyer spotted Monk and Natalie and strode over to them, noticing that Monk's shirt looked a bit wrinkled and disheveled, though it had been tucked back in well before they'd left Natalie's house. The captain smiled at the implications of that.

"Hey Monk—Natalie," he said with a nod. "So we've been talkin' to the tellers. There are six bags chock full of money sitting inside the vault and though the guy was in there, he didn't bother taking one of those bags. What do you think?"

"I'm… not sure yet," Monk murmured, feeling a strange sense of incompetence today. "I need to know more about what happened." That whole encounter earlier had thrown him off-kilter and his mind was fuzzy. Even more confusing was the fact that Natalie hadn't slipped her hand around his elbow as they walked in.

It was then that the new lieutenant Joe Christie approached Monk and Natalie, extending a hand and then smiling and lowering the hand as he remembered.

"Good to see you again, buddy," he said with a big grin. "Heard you two are engaged. Congrats, guys!"

Monk and Natalie replied simultaneously with thank yous.

"I was hoping I'd see you sooner, but it's been so odd lately. Now that I'm a lieutenant, it's like pulling teeth getting some really meaty cases."

"But isn't that a good thing?" Natalie said.

"Well, yeah, open-and-shut cases are great—but then again, Monk isn't called to work on them. I wanted to congratulate you two sooner." He turned to Monk, beaming. "I'll never forget what you did for me, buddy."

"Don't mention it," Monk replied, embarrassed by the compliment.

"There _is_ one open-but-not-totally-shut case the captain was telling me you kind of stumbled upon—the Maggie Grimmalter disappearance," he said. "This was the place she was last seen."

Monk glanced over at Natalie, keeping his eyes low. He had promised her he wouldn't discuss this case further and curiosity be damned, he wanted to keep his promise.

"What—did you already know that?" Lt. Christie said, giving Monk's shoulder a good-natured pat. Monk could only nod, keeping his eyes low. Christie was a bit perturbed by Monk's lack of opinion on what he had so fervently declared was a murder.

"I should have figured," Lt. Christie continued, filling the awkward silence. "Well, we're pretty confident this robbery isn't connected to that case. This branch is hit at least once a month with some kind of drama—whether a failed robbery attempt or some kind of customer meltdown. This was the first successful robbery—well, I don't know if I'd call it successful, being as we can't figure out what was taken…. It's the first robbery in a good while in which the robber's gotten away."

"Have you figured out how he got away?" Monk asked.

"No, but we figure the robber may have had a driver waiting. We still haven't reviewed the security footage, but we'll be getting to that after we've interviewed all the witnesses and let them get on with their day."

"Ah," Monk replied. He gave Joe Christie a nod with a grim smile and moved towards the teller counter. Christie could only blink at Monk's lack of enthusiasm for this case. Granted, it was boring but he'd never known his former partner to be so… avoidant of a subject.

After an officer had finished interviewing the teller closest to the vault, Monk approached the teller's counter.

"Hello, my name is Adrian Monk and I'm a consultant working with the police department," he began self-consciously. "...So you were working here when the robbery happened?"

"Yes, right at this counter. I was waiting on an older gentleman when the robber came in from that door." She pointed towards the side door of the bank, still clearly shook up.

"So—when the robber came in, what did he do?"

"Well, I don't know if it was a man or a woman—the robber was wearing a ski mask and a big black hooded sweatshirt."

Monk subtly rolled his eyes at the argument of semantics.

"Okay, so what did the robber do?"

"The robber came over to Betty—the teller working beside me—and slipped her a note."

"Did you read the note?"

"N-no, not until after, when the robber went into the vault."

"So after the robber slipped the teller a note, what happened?"

"Well, Betty stayed calm and fetched the vault key from the bank manager, who was sitting in a back office. I hit the alarm button to alert the police when I saw her go back there."

"Oh, so the police were alerted right away? And yet he still had the chance to go into the vault?"

"He? Oh, right, you mean the robber. Yeah, so the robber grabbed the keys off of Betty, unlocked the gate behind the vault door—which was already open—and went inside. The police arrived in less than ten minutes but the robber was already gone by then."

Monk was stuck on something she had said earlier in her explanation. He blinked indignantly.

"Let me understand—the vault door was _already_ open?"

"During the day we keep it open when we're going in and out of it. You know, people bringing in valuables, us transferring them to safety deposit boxes…."

"Ha,_ safety_," Monk scoffed.

"What do you mean?"

"They're hardly safe, if the vault is left open all day."

"Well, we learned our lesson," she replied. "I'm sure after this we won't get into that habit again. Whoever started that habit will probably get fired, I bet."

_Fire._ Oh God—the oven! It was still covered in fire extinguisher gunk! The chicken pot pie was surely rotting inside the oven as he spoke, its putrid contents likely dripping all over the bottom of the oven! Natalie had hurried him so quickly out the door that he had neglected to finish the job he had started by putting out the fire in such a sloppy manner. Now she'd have to buy a new oven. That foamy stuff would never come off and even if it did, any food cooking inside would never be safe to eat….

"Are you alright, Sir?" the woman asked, jolting him from his thoughts.

The oven—had he turned it off? Was it continuing to burn though the chicken pot pie? Was Natalie's kitchen currently on fire? Would she come home to nothing but charred ruins?

"Do you have any other questions for me?" the teller asked. Monk scanned his mind for something other than thoughts about the oven, the fire, the chicken pot pie… and Natalie's about-face.

"Uhm…. so after the robber was finished up in the vault, did he come back out of the vault?"

"Of course," she replied. "There's no other way out."

"Natalie, did I turn off the oven?" he muttered to his assistant/fiancée, who stood quietly next to him.

"Yes, you did," she replied under her breath.

"We need to clean it—no, you need to buy a new one," he said, turning to her. "Nothing you make with that oven can be trusted now."

"Why don't you ask the teller your questions and then we can talk about the oven," she said as soothingly as possible.

"Uhm…." He stood in place for at least a minute, obviously conflicted. Rather than continue questioning the teller, he turned to fully face Natalie.

"Are you sure it's off now? Because if not, it's going to catch on fire again and your whole kitchen might—"

Just then she grabbed him by the arm and walked him several steps away.

"You have to focus, Adrian. Focus on the case. I'm one hundred percent sure you turned off the oven. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Yeah, but here's the thing—the chicken pot pies are rotting right now and all the… rotting _fumes_ in that small space are going to build up and cause a fire to spontaneously erupt…."

"Adrian, the fire happened less than an hour ago," she reminded him. "They won't be rotting yet. They have all that extinguisher stuff on them anyway to block any germs from…." Suddenly a thought occurred to her. "Wait—you know what? Those pies are sitting in an _oven _that was burning hot and then the door was shut while it was still hot. Nothing could survive in there."

"Yellowstone _Park_, Natalie," he blurted.

"What does that have to do with anything?" she exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed.

"There are germs there… germs that can live in boiling water. In fact, they _prefer _to live in—"

"Please, Adrian, it's your first case in a long time," she murmured. "I know you're nervous about being on the job again, but you're so good at what you do and they need you."

"It's not that; it's the fact that your oven is now a breeding ground for decay. You're going to have to get rid of that oven."

"I'll make you a deal," she explained, crossing her arms and briefly glancing towards the teller, who was unabashedly staring at Monk. "If you take this case and do your magic here, we can use some of the money you make to buy a new oven. I don't have enough money right now to buy something like that. So—is it a deal?"

With a big toothy grin on her face, she extended her hand. Monk hesitated, but then a small smile flickered across his face and he shook her hand, apparently satisfied with the agreement.

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you think? I think this story may have the best mystery yet of my past stories and I hope that Monk and Natalie are Monkish and Natalie-ish, respectively! Also, if you notice any spelling/grammar errors be sure to point them out as well! I wanted to post this as quickly as I could and so I may not have read it over as carefully as I have done in the past.**


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